


Tender Hands

by OrionMoonrise



Series: Thorns and Arrows [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Holding Hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrionMoonrise/pseuds/OrionMoonrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair tends to Rose Cousland's wounded hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Giveaway Prompt. Alistair/Cousland. Hand Holding.

“You should let me block for you,” Alistair said as he poured fresh water over his companion’s mangled hand. He felt a wave of mild nausea rise in his belly as he watched the chunks of dried blood wash away and expose the raw wound beneath.

Rose hissed between her teeth as the water hit the rended flesh across her knuckles and the back of her hand. “I know my name is Rose, Alistair. But I’m not some wilting flower. I can defend myself.”

“I can see that. You did very well blocking that hurlock’s axe with your hand, here,” Alistair chuckled, stopping short at Rose’s glare of consternation.

They sat in silence for awhile as Alistair tended to her injury. His hands were nearly shaking from the effort of gently caring for the angry looking gash. He delicately applied a healing salve of Morrigan’s creation, before carefully wrapping the wound with a long strip of clean linen that Leliana had stowed in her pack.

“It’s not that you can’t defend yourself, Rose,” Alistair said, breaking the silence. “You’re more skilled with a greatsword than any warrior I’ve ever seen. It’s just that you don’t carry a shield. And I do. So let me take the hits while you unleash the carnage, OK?”

“Ok,” Rose replied with a sigh and a crooked and bemused smile. Her blue eyes met his amber ones, and they sat transfixed for a moment before she broke the gaze and lowered her eyes, a light blush rising in her cheeks.

“Alistair,” she said quietly. “You’re still holding on to my hand.”

“Am I hurting you?” He started, and began to pull his hand away.

“No!” Rose replied quickly. “It feels nice.”

“Good,” Alistair said, straightening his back and puffing his chest out like a proud peacock. “Because I’ve never held hands with someone before. And I think I quite like it.”

Alistair took Rose’s injured hand back in his, and cupped it gently between his two larger ones. They returned to sitting quietly, occasionally exchanging furtive glances and shy smiles as the sunset illuminated the sky above their camp and turned the light surrounding them to a warm rosy gold.

They didn’t break contact until, some time later, Zevran and Oghren returned to the camp with a couple of freshly slain rabbits and a fat game hen for dinner. It was an unusually bountiful feast for this rag tag group, and as Alistair watched Rose tuck into her supper and laugh with Wynne across the campfire, he felt a warm feeling in his chest and told himself that he’d like to hold her hand again very soon.


End file.
